Of Friendship and Jealousy
by GrammarPRNcess
Summary: AU Jealousy can be a dangerous emotion. When Legolas becomes jealous over Estel's budding friendship with a fellow ranger, the stubborn elf in a rare moment of temper leaves the safety of the ranger camp, not realizing that Estel has followed his best fri
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, nada, zip. All characters that are recognizable belong to their original creator. I do, however, own Mariel, Telmar and Tirien.**

A/N: This is my second fanfiction and will probably only be 4-5 chapters in length. I'll try to update every week, however, I can make no promises. Reviews are nice, yet not necessary for me to continue with the fic. I write because it presents me with an outlet for my emotions. While I accept constructive criticism, I do not accept mindless flames. This is also an AU a very AU since Celebrian is still present. I have read countless fanfics that have Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir raising Estel and I have always wondered what it would be like to have Celebrian and Arwen there helping to raise him as well. Thus meaning that both of Aragorn's (Estel) birth parents were killed in that orc attack. Also, I must warn you now...I have never read the books only seen the movies yet I am an avid reader of LoTR fanfiction so I have gathered bits and pieces of book verse information. And despite my pen-name there will be mistakes, I might be an English major but I still make those typical grammatical mistakes. With that said I give to you my very second fanfiction...

(I know that Aragorn becomes the leader/chieften of the rangers, however, I don't know if he became the chieften immediately upon his return or if he had to be with the rangers and gain experience before he would be allowed to lead them. And so in this story I have chosen to follow the latter and have him join the rangers and gain experience before he can lead them.)

(One last thing...I am not Tolkien, nor do I claim to be him and so my writing will not even begin to sound like his, so please keep this in mind when reading. If my work seems too modern in its wording, I apologize, however, please do not flame this story on that merit alone. If modern wording bothers you than please turn back now. I did my best on this chapter and I hope it shows...)

Summary-Jealousy can be a dangerous emotion. When Legolas becomes jealous over Estel's budding friendship with a fellow ranger, the stubborn elf in a rare moment of jealous temper leaves the safety of the ranger camp, not realizing that Estel had followed his best friend. A band of orcs attack the pair just as Estel catches up to his friend leaving him gravely wounded when he intercepts an arrow meant for the elvish prince. Consumed with guilt Legolas rushes his friend to Imladris praying that the stubborn human will not give up hope before he has a chance to apologize for his un-elf like behavior.

**Of Jealousy and Friendship**

By: GrammarPRNcess

The midday sun blazed down upon the inhabitants of the small camp, many of whom wore rather long, tattered, black leather jackets combined with long sleeved, black tunics with matching black trousers and black boots. Though an average human would be sweltering beneath such attire these were no ordinary humans. No, they were rangers of the north, protectors to those who were in need of aid. Normally they roamed the wilds of Middle Earth but this particular segment had many wounded men from a skirmish with orcs that needed an extra day or two of rest and so they remained in a guarded glade that was not even two days ride to Imladris, home to their newly returned Cheiften.

It was the sound of hearty laughter that had caught the attention of the one unusual member of this group, for no ranger, rather human was he, but an elf of prominent standing in his father's realm. Legolas had met up with the rangers not even a week ago as he was on his way to visit Imladris and his dear friends. Glancing up from polishing his twin blades he was dismayed to see that the source of uncontained mirth had come from the very one he had sought out to visit.

Estel or rather Aragorn was sitting beside a young, freshly scrubbed ranger that could not have been older than Estel himself. The young ranger, Telmar, was obviously regaling Estel with a humorous anecdote and yet Legolas could not fathom what a child of his years could say that was so intriguing. It had been this way since Legolas had met up with the rangers, Estel would spend some time with him, however, to the ire of the elf, he also spent a bit more time with Telmar. He was beginning to feel like a third wheel and quite left out. He was jealous though he would never admit that to a living soul, for elves don't become jealous. They are harmonious and comforting, not ones to provoke unless it was an enemy and so for an elf and an elven Prince at that to become jealous of a human was ludicrous. But true all the same.

As the laughter continued the elven archer stood and made his way towards his friend, having had enough of being ignored and the annoying sound that was Telmar's laughter. Gracefully he walked towards the pair, blue fire lighting his eyes as he noticed the position the two rangers were in. They were sitting side by side, polishing their weapons while making conversation, but it was the relaxed and friendly air that surrounded the two that had upset Legolas. It was the same familiarity that always encompassed the elf and his human friend. It had taken quite a while before such an air had encircled them, it was almost a sacred feeling and yet with this, this young ranger it had only taken a span of a few months to achieve what had taken Leoglas and Estel years to perfect. Resentment began to boil under the surface of Legolas' calm facade, resentment towards his best friend and towards Telmar. He couldn't understand how Estel could share such a moment, a sacred air that Legolas thought belonged to only he and the human. His stride though graceful, had a decidedly hurried bounce to it that belied the serene picture his face presented. Finally he approached the pair who had turned from loud voices to soft whispers, noticing not the silently fuming elf that stood before them.

Legolas was a tolerant elf, however, that tolerance was being stretched thinly and so was his patience with the ranger. That Estel had failed to noticed his presence when he could always sense the elf's approach hurt Legolas more than he would care to admit even to himself. Looking back at the two rangers who still had not registered that Legolas was even standing there, he had to ask himself if what he had feared most in the world when Estel had joined the rangers had come to pass. _'Has Estel forgotten our friendship already? Has he forgotten our adventures and my vow that I would stand by his side until the end? Has, has he forgotten me?'_ The thoughts swirled viciously in his mind and a sense of betrayal and loneliness overcame his senses, jealousy was burning bright in his being and Legolas had the sudden, violent urge to smash something, anything so long as it took his pain away.

The elf's normally friendly eyes had turned a telling shade of black, a sign that his mind was in turmoil and his heart heavy and it was this sight of his best friend that greeted Estel when he had finally sensed Legolas' presence. Smiling he stood to embrace the elf only to see the darkened face and burning eyes and took a step back. Fear, an emotion that he had never experienced with the elf was wrapping itself tightly around him, like a cloak that was meant for protection but felt stifling all the same. Tentatively Estel reached out to his friend, meaning only to graze the infuriated elf's shoulder, however, before his hand reached Legolas, the elf suddenly drew back a fierce scowl marring his handsome face. Estel stood there, shock etched on his youthful face, not believing that his best friend had recoiled from his touch. _'Much like you did just a moment ago,'_ his mind raged though he tried to justify that as merely being surprised by the intense feelings his friend was emanating.

"Legolas, is something wrong?" Estel's voice held true concern but the stubborn elf refused to acknowledge it, instead he glared at the two rangers, noticing that Telmar had taken a few steps away, not being able to handle the elf's piercing glare. Finally, Legolas turned his attention towards his friend. Willing himself to calm down, Legolas took a few deep breaths yet when his attention was focused on the human again his resentment and hurt again boiled beneath his not so calm facade.

"Is there something wrong? you ask me, Strider. Whatever gave you that impression?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm and he took delight in seeing the frown that began to grace the rangers brow.

"Legolas, be serious. Is something wrong? Has one of the others said something to you? You are obviously upset, my friend..." With that one word Legolas snapped and rounded on the human he called friend.

"Friend! Friend, you call me your friend, yet since I have met up with your group you have treated me more like a guest, a stranger Strider, not a friend. You spend no more than a few hours if even that in my company. Instead you have chosen to give your attention to the young one who now stands behind you cowering." The last was said in elvish, Legolas in his anger having reverted into his own language. Estel, now understanding what was bothering the elf was becoming angry too.

"Can I not have friends of my own race, Legolas? Am I not allowed to have friends besides you, or the warriors of my father's realm? Tell me o' mighty prince of Mirkwood must my sole attention be placed on you?" This too was said in elvish, his rising temper leading Estel to speak his first language. His last comment was low and hurtful to one who had always sworn their protection and friendship with no strings attached.

Estel, however, didn't seem to acknowledge his words, not until the crestfallen and hurt look that had passed over Legolas face did he realize how his words had sounded. His face softened, yet before he could utter an apology the elven prince had turned on his heel, walking towards where his bow and twin blades rested. Placing his weapons where they always rested, he glanced at Aragorn once more than whistled for his faithful mare. Tirien trotted up to her master who leaped gracefully onto her saddle-less back and without a word he left the ranger camp, his eyes burning and his chest heavy with unbridled emotion.

Aragon watched with tears in his own eyes as his best friend left the safety of the ranger camp, his being filled with shame for the way he had treated his elven friend. He began to unfold the memories of the elf's visit beginning with his arrival to the camp. He had been so excited that his friend was there, having missed him and his family terribly since he joined with the rangers months ago, much to his parents dismay, who wished for him to wait awhile longer before he took upon himself his destiny. It had never occurred to him that he had been neglecting his sworn brother. He believed he had been dividing his attention equally and only now did he realize that what Legolas had said was true. He had chosen Telmar over his friend. How could he do that to his best friend?

Telmar, like himself was new to the rangers and missed his family just as much as Aragorn missed his. In Telmar, Aragorn felt he had found a kindred spirit, someone who understood what he was feeling and so he sought out the young man's friendship and had readily gained it, falling into an easy and relaxed friendship just as he shared with Legolas.

_'By the Valar,'_ he thought, _'I've been a fool. I missed Legolas so much that I tried to imitate our friendship with another. No wonder he's so furious with me. And jealous.'_ With a steely resolve he set off for his mare, hoping that he could catch up to the irate elf before it was too late. He brushed off Telmar who had followed him with shouts that scouts had spotted orcs in the vicinity and that seeing how night was approaching he was better off not following an elf who was in the middle of a temper tantrum.

At the last of Telmar's words, Aragorn spun round and faced the young ranger. Telmar was no taller than he, his eyes a dark brown that matched his long, wavy hair. His build was slight and his skin was dark indicating that he spent quite a bit of time in the sun. Aragorn's normally light grey eyes, now a shade darker stared into Telmar's, fury, fear and shame coursing through his veins.

"He is no elf, Telmar. He is my best friend and I have wronged him. He traveled a far distance to visit with me and I treated him not with the respect he so richly deserves, especially after tolerating my actions for as long as he did. I only hope that he can forgive me for my foolishness" With those words Aragorn mounted his mare, Mariel and rode off in the same direction Legolas had only mere moments ago, hoping against hope that he would reach his best friend before the orcs do, all the while praying to the Valar that he could apologize and fix the damage done to their friendship, never realizing the danger that lay up ahead and that this time one of them may not survive the battle.

Well, here is the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed it and I plan to have chapter 2 which will be entitled, **Battle and Regrets** up soon, sometime next week actually. O-kay, now I'm off to bake Christmas cookies...**Happy Holidays** everyone!


	2. Battles and Regrets

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for the characters Xartha, Mariel, Tirien, Telmar, Vork, Pelnook and any other character that you don't recognize.

A/N: I know, I know this is late and I apologize for that. However, real life has been rearing its ugly head as of late. Why oh why can't I live peacefully in fantasy land. ponders

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, I appreciate the kind words. I would have used the new reply thingy, but I'm hesitent to do so.I'm not too certain how good it works, so if someone canlet me know, I'lluse it for the reviews for this chapter. Well, itwas brought to my attention how OOC Legolas and Aragorn are and well I kind of agree, so that's why I'm slapping on this OOC tag.That way I have all bases covered. As usual this is an AU,and if youhavetrouble accepting that I have utterly and completely taken the world of Tolkein and made it my own and have twisted it to fit my over-active imagination than I advise you to please turn back and find a story moresuitable to your tastes.

Reviews are nice, yet not necessary for me to continue with the fic. I write because it presents me with an outlet for my emotions. While I accept constructive criticism, I do not accept mindless flames.

(One last thing...I am not Tolkien, nor do I claim to be him and so my writing will not even begin to sound like his, so please keep this in mind when reading. If my work seems too modern in its wording, I apologize, however, please do not flame this story on that merit alone. If modern wording bothers you than please turn back now. I did my best on this chapter and I hope it shows...)

**Of Friendship and Jealousy **

**Chapter 2: Battles & Regrets**

A foul stench defiled the warm, spring air while the screeches and clanking of crude, heavily made armour caused the birds to scatter towards safety and the trees to flutter and cry in dismay.

This relatively small sized band of orcs lead by Xartha, a particularly angry and vicious orc were like all orcs before them; ugly, disfigured creatures looking for their next victim to torture and torment, for such behavior brought great joy and pleasure to these vilest of creatures. Xartha gathering the most joy at the screams and cries of pain being inflicted upon the poor soul whether they be elf, man or dwarf.

Marching along, happily destroying all the beauty of nature they encountered, Xartha suddenly called for a halt, his deformed hand raised far above his equally disfigured head. Lifting his head high, he sniffed the air like a wild dog the two slits that passed for a nose expanding with every intake of breath.

A slow, malicious smile crept upon Xartha's face as realization came to his mind at what he smelled. An elf. He smelled an elf. While orcs loved the screams and cries of their victims it was the cries of pain from the lips of the fair first born that orcs cherished most. And just when Xartha thought they'd have no fun today.

Laughing with evil glee, Xartha began barking out orders beginning with a stout, over-eager to please his leader, orc called Vork.

"Vork!" The stout, rather short orc hobbled forward, his features more disfigured than even those of Xartha. Vork didn't say anything, just stood before his leader, eager to please Xartha and avoid being that nights supper. Pleased with Vork's silent obedience Xartha barked out his orders.

"Vork-gather wood. We've company coming." With a cry of delighted pleasure Vork staggered off as Xarhta signaled for the others to take cover for their surprise ambush.

"We're gonna have fun tonight boys!" The burly orc called out as he took his position behind a large ancient oak that was trying desperately to warn the unsuspecting, approaching elf of the dangers that lie ahead. It's sorrowful cries of despair went unheard though as the elf continued their approach.

It's going to be a heartbreaking night.

Legolas' eyes burned with the tears he refused to shed. His chest heaved with every breath he took, pain, hurt and a feeling of loneliness filled his heart. His mind raged with feelings of betrayal and uncertainty, was he being irrational? Did he overreact to a matter so trivial that it should be laughed at and looked fondly on in the years to come as one of the many trials and tribulations he and Estel faced in their friendship. So uncertain was his thoughts.

With both mind and body heavy with sorrow the youngest prince of Mirkwood rode on, Tirien his ever faithful mare sensing her masters distress kept her own sensitive senses alert, determined that her young master would not suffer any further heartache. Nearing a cluster of trees including a large and ancient oak, Tirien began nickering and bucking, her more alert senses picking up on the danger that lays ahead.

Startled by the sudden movements of his mare, Legolas tried in vain to soothe the agitated animal.

"Shush, be calm my lovely one." He whispered in elvish, the soothing melodic voice however, did little if nothing to calm the bucking, upset horse. "Tirien, what-" his words were stopped short when he too felt the presence of evil.

"Orcs," he breathed and carefully he lowered himself to the ground. "Hide my beauty. Go, now!" Hesitating, Tirien made to disobey her master, however, the sorrowful, pleading look given caused the faithful beast to gallop away, yet not far enough where she couldn't reach her elven lord if the need arises.

Legolas grasped his bow, his hand poised to grab for an arrow when the enemy showed their hideous faces. Now alerted to the evil presence Legolas scanned his surroundings. He knew they were close, there was no mistaking that foul odor that permeated through the air, choking and causing distress to all of Arda's nature that flourished in this area of the forest.

Sharp elven eyes pierced through thick, heavy foliage, searching for the evil that had marked them as prey, all the while equally sharp elven ears listened for any movement, for this was truly rare, orcs were not known for silence let alone a stealthy nature. Xartha and his followers, hidden carefully behind ancient oaks and various sundry foliage, waited none too patiently for the elf to approach, to satisfy their blood lust that churned deep in their veins.

Xartha in particular was most anxious for Legolas to approach, his face scrunched tightly as he barred his yellow, misaligned teeth. Thick, heavy drops of grayish-black saliva dripped from his twisted smile as thoughts of sweet torture flitted across his minds eye. His disfigured hand, with its four fingers clutched gleefully at the weapon in their grasp.

The plan was going accordingly, that is until a shout of glee came from the trees and a stout, severely disfigured creature came stumbling out. Vork! In his haste to reach his master Vork had forgotten the general rule: Quietness. Now as he stumbled towards his companions, excitement lacing his tones Vork had garnered the attention of the elven prince. Turning towards the exciting drivel, Legolas grasped his bow, reaching inside his quiver for an arrow, quickly he withdrew the elegantly crafted shaft, with it's deep green and brown fletching he notched the arrow, all in one, single heartbeat.

His silver-blue eyes met the inky black of Vork's and there they stood, elf and orc staring both surprised and then in one blink of an eye Legolas let loose his arrow, a shocked cry filled the surrounding area as Vork's heavy body, embellished in his crudely made armor fell to the earth, an elvish arrow protruding from his neck.

Xartha stood behind the ancient oak stunned into silence, his eyes wide in puzzlement stared at the elven archer as he hesitantly lowered his bow, eyes fervently darting from tree to tree, knowing the orcs were there, just still surprised that they were still well hidden. Legolas felt his blood pumping, his disgust for the mere presence of orcs and his argument with Aragorn still fresh in his minds eye giving him a sense of abandonment he has never felt before. The hurt, pain and anger he still felt towards his friend came rushing to the fore, clouding his judgment and the orcs were the perfect exercise to rid the feelings his heart was burdened with.

With a fierceness that surprised even himself, Legolas called for the creatures to show themselves, if it was a fight they wanted, it was a fight they would get and they would loose. Xartha, returned to his senses as the elf continued to insult his band of orcs. Xartha knew that elves were fierce and deadly enemies, however, this elf had grated on his last nerve, if any for that matter. Vork's death had caused stunned silence, but no longer and with a wave of his four fingered hand the others came rushing out from their hiding spots, determined to catch the elf for the sole pleasure of torture.

Loud screeches to his left alerted Legolas that his enemy was on the move and with the swiftness that only the first born were blessed with, Legolas had his bow ready for use and in a rapid succession he felled four orcs, arrows piercing their flesh with a sickening thud. As the orcs came nearer Legolas replaced his bow with his twin knives, twirling them as though he were demonstrating tricks and not using them to fell the creatures before him.

Left, right, duck and parry were the movements Legolas followed, it appeared as though he were performing an elegant dance so graceful were his movements. His momentum fueled by the anguish and pain his heart and mind were being subjected to, parrying with the orcs in a deadly dance that neither wanted to loose. However, no matter how many orcs he killed one more was always there to replace the one that had fallen and despite his elevn longevity he was tiring. His emotions draining him as he fought, his knives and tunic stained with the black blood of orcs.

The orcs sensing the elf's tiredness, rushed at Legolas attacking him two at a time and this strategy of sorts was working, for it was wearing the prince down and in a moment of weakness, an orc lunged for Legolas who barely moved in time, the blade of the orc's weapon slicing the princes upper right arm. Grimacing in pain, Legolas didn't hesitate, nor did he slow his movements, thrust, parry, and duck. And yet they still came and Legolas had to wonder at his sanity for continuing this fight, for it was apparent that he was loosing despite the bodies of dead orcs that loitered the ground, staining it black.

Xartha stayed hidden in the shadows, watching and waiting for the moment when the elf would fall, too weak to continue this fight and defend himself. Grinning to himself, Xartha couldn't help but think that moment was soon, for the elf was loosing what little energy he had. He began to step forward, intent on being the one to capture Legolas, when he suddenly stopped. The sound of hoof beats was unmistakable nor was the voice that was calling out for someone. Turning to the source of the disruption Xartha was surprised to see a lone human galloping towards the elf, calling out a name that sounded strangely familiar.

Rage burned in Xartha as he realized that this human was about to ruin everything, all his wonderful fun and pleasures. Snarling to himself Xartha grasped his cross-bow, licking the tip and shaft coating them in a generous amount of orc saliva, stopping briefly to plunge the arrow into the body of a dead orc, only to rip it out again. The arrow now coated with the saliva and blood of an orc was more a deadly weapon then ever before, the combination of spit and blood creating a deadly poison. Taking position, Xartha took aim, waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.

Aragorn urged his mount into a frenzied gallop, desperately searching for his missing friend, all the while berating himself for the circumstances of the elf's departure. **'If only I had been more attentive to Legolas. Yet, never in my all years of living amongst elves have they ever showed jealous emotions. Anger yes, sadness yes, happiness always, but never jealousy. I never thought an elf could become jealous. I just...' **Aragorn was cut mid-thought by the sudden appearance of Tirien, Legolas beautiful black mare. That she was rider less caused him a moments panic, for he remembered Telmar's parting words of orc activity that the scouts had reported on earlier. Could Legolas have stumbled upon them? Knowing his friend and his penchant for getting into trouble the answer was a resounding yes. Whistling softly, Aragorn called the mare over trying to soothe the upset animal that clearly wanted him to follow her.

"Shh, be calm sweet one. Where is Legolas, can you take me to him?" Nickering and flinging her head from side to side Tirien twisted away from Aragorn, causing him to release her reins. Understanding her meaning, Aragorn urged the young mare to continue, to show him where Legolas was and with one final fling of her mane Tirien galloped towards the area of forest where her elven lord waited, sensing that he was in danger was what had caused her to search out help and now that she had found such, Tirien wasted no time in getting the much needed help to where her master fought for his very life.

Aragorn's dread that Legolas had found trouble increased at the pace Tirien was setting, for such haste could only mean that Legolas was in a most dire circumstance. Tirien broke through foliage and Aragorn followed, the sound of clanking metal unmistakable and he urged Mariel into a faster gallop. As he neared the battle, for that was what it appeared to be, Aragorn couldn't help the gasp that passed from his lips. The carnage was unbelievable, Legolas stood surrounded by more than six orcs, the ground littered with the bodies of more than nine dead orcs. And yet, Legolas stood nary a scratch except for on his right forearm, his twin knives held tightly in a death grip and a look of complete satisfaction that it frightened Estel, frightened him for his friend never had such a look of absolute delight in his silver-blue eyes, nor a look of complete blood lust encompassing his fair features.

Somewhere during the fight, Legolas had 'snapped' letting out every emotion he felt until he felt no more, and in doing so he felt re-energized and a sense of blood lust had completely taken over. He just simply didn't care anymore. Not wanting his best friend to kill himself, since he had an apparent death wish, Estel galloped into the fray, leaping from his own mount onto the orcs that surrounded his friend. Though such a move was not exactly what one would call a brilliant strategy, it did, however, bear the desired results. The orcs focused their attention instead on Aragorn who was slightly dazed from his death-defying stunt. Shaking his head, Aragorn rose into a fighting stance, noticing that Legolas hadn't even acknowledged his presence; yet considering the elf's mental state it was understandable.

As the orcs converged onto Aragorn, Legolas' attention was diverted to a lone orc that stood, hovering over the bodies of his dead companions. Pelnook, Xartha's second in command raised his eyes towards the elven prince and with a roar he charged towards the one that killed so many of his men. Legolas, despite his weariness parried thrust for thrust his elven grace still present despite his fatigue. However, Legolas had the skill and the experience and despite Pelnook's determination, Legolas was the better fighter and with a swift thrust, one of Legolas' knives embedded itself in the heart of the orc, a wet, slurping noise accompanying the removal of the blade as the body fell heavily to the ground.

Legolas bent to retrieve one of his twin knives that had fallen during the fight, leaving himself unguarded and it was that one unguarded moment that would haunt this elven prince for all his years on Arda.

It was the unguarded moment Xartha had waited for, his lips once again twisted into a cruel smirk as he prepared his weapon and aimed for the unsuspecting elf. Aragorn had dispatched of nearly all the orcs, fighting a rather persistent one, when he noticed Xartha aim his crossbow at Legolas. Realizing that his dearest friend hadn't seen the danger he was in, Aragorn gave one final thrust of his sword, felling the rather obnoxious orc and raced for his friend, calling his name.

"Legolas!" the ranger shouted trying in vain to catch the elf's attention.

Legolas, still oblivious to Estel's presence and the danger he was in, was startled when he heard his name being called. Knowing instantly who it was that called his name he turned towards his friend, confusion replacing any and all emotions that may have surfaced with the sound of Aragorn's voice. "Estel, wha-" Before he had the chance to further ask his friend his elven ears heard the twang of a bow and just as he was about to turn towards the source he felt himself being pushed out of the way, falling un-gracefully to the forest floor.

It seemed as if time had slowed, for as soon as Legolas had gathered his wits about him and glanced towards his friend he saw to his horror the arrow strike his friend on the left side of his chest, dangerously close to his heart. Time had stood still in that one instant, all movement slowed as if time itself was trying to halt what has happened. And then as soon as it happened, it was over. Time resumed its normal pace and Aragorn fell to the ground, his hands holding the arrow in shock. Legolas snapped from his shocked stupor and raced to his friend's side.

"Estel! Oh my friend, what have I done?" He gently removed Estel's fingers from the shaft of the arrow, blood was pumping from the wound at an alarming rate and he needed to somehow cauterize the injury. So engrossed was he that he didn't notice Xartha run from his position by the shadows of the trees, further into the forest and from the worried elf and his wounded friend. Xartha wasn't as intellectually challenged, as many believed orcs to be. He knew that a furious elf and one after blood was not an elf you wanted to be around and like a cowardly dog with his tail between his legs he ran off, having no remorse for those who were killed under his command.

"Legolas, I'-" Whatever Estel was about to say was stopped by his elven friend who gently placed two fingers upon the rangers lips. "Shh, Estel. Speak later. Now I must tend to your wounds. Where is your pack, Estel?" Aragorn motioned towards Mariel who tentatively returned to her wounded masters side. "I will be back Estel, I promise." With a smile that Legolas hoped was reassuring he turned to leave when Estel suddenly grabbed his arm. Startled Legolas returned to his friend's side, alarmed when Estel's breathing became labored.** 'Oh, what have I done. I sulked like a spoiled child and ran off like one too. And now my best friend lies here, possibly dying and all because I threw a temper tantrum.'** Legolas began to sink into his regrets as he retrieved the supplies he needed, as Aragorn finally let go of Legolas arm when he passed out, either from pain or from his wounds Legolas wasn't too sure.

Legolas was hesitant to treat his friend's wounds, not knowing much about healing except what the warriors of his father's realm were taught. Knowing and understanding the logistics of preparing an arrow wound for treatment, Legolas set to work to try and cauterize the wound. Remembering that the tip of the arrow could be wired and cause more damage if ripped out, Legolas grasped the base of the shaft leaving a few inches remaining and snapped it. Though unconscious, the sudden movement caused Estel's body to jerk, startling Legolas who wasn't prepared for such a motion.

In all the years of his friendship with the human, and their misadventures together, never before has Legolas felt such regret for Estel's hurts. He has seen Aragorn in various stages of pain, agony and remorse; has seen his friend endure more wounds and death defying situations than any one being, elf, dwarf or human alike should. And despite all those moments it is this one moment that will haunt him for all his years on Arda.

As gently as he dared Legolas began to cut away the Ranger's black tunic that was rapidly being drenched crimson, peeling the fabric away from the bloody wound. Sweat began to bead the young mans brow, his skin taking on a deathly pale hue, the only color that gave any indication that Estel was alive was the rosy pink that tinted his otherwise grey pallor.

Alarmed at the rising fever that was ravaging Aragorn's body, Legolas unceremoniously emptied the contents of the healing pack Lord Elrond forced his youngest son to carry. There were plenty of bandages, more than enough for a small contingent of elves and rangers. Sorting through the supplies Legolas was dismayed to discover that there were three bags of different herbs; herbs that all appeared similar. How was he to tell the difference? Which were the athleas and which were the ones that reduced fevers?

With no time to dally Legolas opened the three bags and smelled each, knowing that the herbs used to lower fevers smelled bitter and pungent while athleas had a sweeter smell, especially when mixed with boiling water. Estel began to groan in pain and Legolas knowing that his time was limited made a drastic choice. Grasping the second bag he pulled open the strings and inhaled deeply, a faint sweet smell assaulted his senses and Legolas sighed in temporary relief.

In his haste he had forgotten to boil the water and time was too precious to waste on collecting wood. Risking another gamble Legolas chose to follow an example he had seen Estel do once. Pulling out a liberal amount of the healing herb, he placed it in his mouth and began to chew. A faint bitterness could be tasted and Legolas almost feared he had in deed chosen the wrong healing herb, however, an even fainter sweet taste could also be detected and that was all Legolas needed for reassurance.

Satisfied that he had softened the herb, the elven prince spat it out and into the palm of his hand where he began to gently apply the mush that passed for healing herbs to Estel's festering wound. As gentle as Legolas was, Estel's body felt it was still under attack and he stiffened and jerked with the gentle ministrations his elven companion made, making his friends task harder for he would have to stop and soothe the unconscious man with the reassurances that all was well and that he was no longer in danger; however, that is nothing more than a wishful thought from the distraught Prince, for though he could help prevent infection he knew that the wound was poisoned.

The blood that crusted the outer edges of the arrow wound was an inky black, a sure sign of orc poison and Legolas feared more deeply for the young human's life. The fever that plagued Estel was high and dangerously so, and yet there was nothing he could do for that. He had to make haste for Imladris, for it was a two days ride and the sun was setting. It would be nightfall in a few hour's time and Legolas wanted to achieve much progress before he was forced to stop for the night.

Wrapping the final bandage around his friend's chest, Legolas whistled for his mare that came softly to her master's side. With a gesture of his hand, Tirien lowered herself to the ground waiting patiently for her elven lord to gently mount with his precious bundle. Legolas gently gathered his friend in his arms and placed first Estel upon the mares back before he himself slid behind his cataleptic friend.

A soft tug on her reins signaled to Tirien that Legolas was ready to depart and as gently and gracefully as could be managed the mare stood, Legolas whispering in her elegant ear words that have been whispered before and in a soft gallop Tirien made for Imladris, her elven master clinging onto hope as hope began to fade.

Ugh, I know it wasn't that great so please be kind with reviews. The next update will probably take the same length of time as this one so please bear with me. Until then...GrammarPRNcess


	3. Memories

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot, Tirien, Miriel and Cellan, all recognizable characters belong to Tolkien and Co.**

**A/N: **(peeks from behind trusty computer; sees flaming arrows and assorted torture devices being directed at self, hides once again) Finally emerges from the safety of her computer...

I am so, so sorry that it took me an eternity to update. I never meant for it to take this long, and I won't even begin to make excuses, I only hope that you can forgive me and give the story another try. For those who are curious as to why it took me forever, please read the a/n at the end of the chapter.

Okie dokie, now that I've groveled shamelessly, I'll get on with the a/n. This story is going to be longer then I anticipated, and Iblame the plot bunnies that invademy sleep at night. They've put such wonderful ideas into my head thatI can't resist and so, more chapters and more Legolas and Aragorn angst...YAY!

Alrighty, like always I mustsay this; this story is AU, meaning that it never happened in Tolkien's universe, but it does in mine. Celebrien never sailed, she is still around, Aragorn's parents were both killed in that orc attack and I've decided to make Aragorn a mere infant when that attack happened. If this bothers anyone, then I ask that you please keep flames to yourself, for I have warned you that this doesn't follow canon. Another thing is that I'm notTolkien and I will never begin to even remotely sound like him, and my writing will reflect this as it sounds abit too modern. Yes, I freely admit this.

Lastly, I do not have a beta, I usually rely on my best friend to give me her honest opinion when I finish writing a chapter,however, since she's being lazy and gets all cranky when I ask her, I'm afraid I'm foregoing any semblance of beta-ing. And so I take full responsibility for any spelling errors, and/or grammar mistakes. My major might be English, but I still make those occasional mistakes. I'm human and I'm not perfect.

And now I present Chapter 3...(FYI: the bold/italics portion is Legolas memory. I hope this helps lessen any confusion that may occur)

**Chapter 3: Memories**

Trees became blurs of greens and browns as Legolas urged his mount into a more fast paced gallop, the gentle one he had started out with disappearing as his friend's condition worsened.

Aragorn's fever grew and yet his face was pale and clammy, only the barest hint of pink tinged his cheeks. Even in Legolas firm and protective grasp Estel trembled and only when the sun sank further behind the peaks of the Misty Mountains and cast shadows no more, did Legolas finally rein in his tired mare.

The forest was a dangerous place at night and Legolas bearing such knowledge cast his elven eyes in every direction hoping to discover the safest place to rest for the night. With a gentle pat to Tirien's graceful neck and softly spoken words in elvish, Legolas bid his mare to kneel.

With soft and careful movements Tirien, though exhausted, did as her master asked and kneeled on the moss covered ground. Once Tirien had kneeled, Legolas jumped from her bare back, his hands still holding Estel in a firm grip. Once steadied, the elven prince wrapped his arms around his friends middle and gently, slowly lowered him to the ground.

With nimble fingers Legolas softly brushed away a stray lock of dark hair from his friends heavily perspiring brow, musing silently to himself how that one lock of hair never stays in place. Rising, Legolas scanned his surroundings, knowing that he had to find wood for a fire. Brushing a whisper of a kiss to Estel's temple, Legolas set out but not before commanding Tirien and Miriel who had followed, to stay alert and protect his dear friend. Both horses whinnied, an act that the elf took as a 'yes' and disappeared into the darkening woods, only glancing back once to see both mares standing guard near Aragorn.

'Oh, please keep him safe. Keep them all safe' he silently pleaded and set off on his appointed task. Twenty minutes later, the elven prince returned, dropping the pile of wood he had gathered rather carelessly and went straight to his friends side. Estel had begun to tremble either from cold or pain, Legolas wasn't sure. Cautiously, he held down the trembling man's shoulders, whispering words in elvish that would normally soothe the ill human. Once the man had calmed and Legolas had released his shoulders, the elf stood and hurried to begin a fire. He had to get some medicine into his friend, for Estel's fever had spiked since he had last checked.

Placing the wood in a circle of rocks, and using a flint to light the fire, Legolas made his way to the packs that both horses carried. Reaching for a water skin, he noticed that it was oddly soaked, as if it had been suddenly dunked into the river and then ripped out. Bringing both water skins and the various packs with him, Legolas hunched down by the fire and held up the wet skin. There was still sunlight, however, the tops of the trees prevented what little light there was to filter through and thus Legolas needed the extra light the fire would undoubtedly give.

Turning it every which way, Legolas breath hitched when he saw a tiny tear on the side of the water skin. Dropping his, he quickly reached for Estel's and instantly he felt moisture. Holding it to the light, he was disheartened to see that Estel's water skin also had a tear in the side. Dejectedly he lowered it to his side, his beautiful features were drawn into a sharp, crease of worry. Both water skins had tears in them, both lost quite a bit of water; water they couldn't afford to loose. He knew that both he and the horses could survive without water for a few days, such were the gifts bestowed upon them, however, he needed the water to prepare both the athleas and fever reducing tea for his injured friend.

Rubbing at his temples to soothe the headache that was beginning to form, he realized that he would have to ration the water. Knowing that the athleas worked better when boiled he made the choice to use the water for that sole purpose. The fever reducing herbs would also work if taken raw, yet he wasn't sure if the potency was the same. He knew he should've paid more attention to the lessons on healing, yet so anxious was he to become a warrior, that Legolas thought any lessons that pertained to outside material, such as healing was something trivial and not needed to kill the fell creatures that inhabited the woods of his home.

Pulling a small copper pot from Aragorn's pack, he quickly filled it with water from his own water skin. Reaching once again into the pack, Legolas pulled out the iron stand that was used to place pots over the fires, unfolding the thin metal and positioning the hook from which the pot hangs. Placing the water filled copper pot on the hook, Legolas decided to let the water boil first then add the athleas.

Returning his attention to the ill ranger, Legolas began to worry his bottom lip, a habit he had when he was nervous or worried. He was calling himself a hundred kinds of fool, though he knew that Aragorn was also blaming himself, such was their friendship. Soon the water was boiling and Legolas added a tentative amount of the athleas, not sure how much was too much and what was considered too little. Satisfied that he had added the correct or sufficient amount he allowed the athleas laced water to boil for a few minutes longer, stirring every so often.

Using his own tunic Legolas grasped the pots handle and removed it from the fire, setting it down on a flat rock that lay near Aragorn. Once again reaching for his friends healing pack, he pulled out a generous amount of bandages, noting to himself that the bag was near to overflowing with them. 'Does Lord Elrond truly believe his son is so accident prone that he needs more bandages then he knows what to do with...' Subconsciously Legolas knew that the over-abundance of healing supplies had more to with Aragorn's joining with the rangers, then his penchant for getting into the most absurd and dangerous of situations.

The sweet scent of the athleas brought his attention back to the present and he reached his hand for the small pot to test the temperature of its contents. Dipping one elegant finger into the water he was pleased to find it had cooled and was now luke warm. With swift flicks of his wrist Legolas had cut away the bandages he had quickly fastened around his friends wounds before gathering him into his arms and fleeing for the ill humans home. He checked the wound to his friends chest with shaking fingers, gently prodding it and noting with a grimace the swelling and angry red that surrounded the area of the wound. It was infected and Legolas was worried about orc poisoning, for the fever that ravaged his friends body could not only be caused by infection alone; it was too high to be so.

Dipping a select few bandages into the cooling water, he gently brushed it around the wound, remembering the small piece of the shaft that remained, sticking from his friends pale form like a sore thumb. He was grateful that Estel remained asleep, for he wasn't sure he could treat his friends hurts if he had been awake, and semi-lucid. Once he had finished cleansing the wound he dipped two more bandages into the now cold water and wrapped them as carefully as he could around Aragorn's battered chest. Once finished he proceeded to wrap dry bandages around the wet ones hoping that he was doing the right thing, adding so many bandages. With a sigh he completed his task and leaned back, looking at his friend and suddenly the guilt came rushing to fore once again, unbidden tears welled in his eyes as he fought his emotions, knowing that Estel needed him to be strong and not give into guilt, no matter how strong that guilt was. There was time for such thoughts later, once Aragorn had healed and the two had a long talk, knowing that somewhere in the many years of their friendship, trust had suddenly become elusive and he, Legolas was determined to regain that trust and hold onto it with all the strength he possessed.

Night had fallen completely as Legolas continued his vigil over his ill friend. With gentle fingers he softly brushed that one stray lock of dark hair that never seemed to stay in place and once again it fell defiantly across the perspiring brow of the ranger. Using a long stick that was unnaturally thick and heavy, Legolas began poking at the fire, staring into its bright flames as his thoughts became a whirlwind of memories.

A loud, pain filled moan tore through the silence and penetrated Legolas's almost trance like state. With movement that would have a man with pains in his neck, Legolas whipped his head in his friends direction. Afraid that Estel would strain his injuries and cause further bleeding, Legolas quickly pulled down the blanket he had covered his friend with and timidly and with cautious hands, lifted the loose fitting sleep shirt he had placed on his friend after tending to his wounds earlier. Whispering softly in elvish in hopes to soothe his friend he examined the bandages that he bound over the festering arrow wound.

Blood stained the pristine white of the multi-layered bandages and yet Legolas noted with a small measure of relief that the bleeding seemed to be coming under control. Only a moderate amount of his friends blood soaked through. With the ease born of familiarity and love, Legolas gently maneuvered Aragorn's head so it now rested comfortably on his lap, bending slightly to re-cover his friends wounded form.

Shaking fingers combed through dark curls as Legolas began to softly sing an elvish lullaby, his voice, though wavering brought a calmness over his troubled friend. Smiling stiffly as the tension slowly drained from Estel's weakened frame, the elvish prince continued his lullaby, his gaze staring intently at the flames before his mind drifted back to his first meeting with the human. For the first time since his friend had been injured, Legolas smiled, becoming lost in memories of a most adventurous toddler.

_**The day was warm and the fragrant, sweet scents of the various wild-flowers filled the air, giving hints that the harsh winter was grudgingly letting go and spring was there to wrap all of Arda in their warm embrace. Legolas breathed in the fresh, clean scent, greedily indulging in the calm and tranquil peace that shrouded the woods he rode through, so different from the hurried and dangerous woods of his own beloved woodland realm. **_

_**So engrossed was he that he hadn't noticed his eldest brother, Cellan moving his own mount beside his own. **_

_**"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Cellan's voice startled Legolas, a deep blush gracing his face as his other two brother's snickered from atop their own steeds. Cellan waited patiently for Legolas to recover from his embarrassment, his centuries of having to deal with mischievous younger brothers having taught him patience is indeed a virtue. **_

_**Cellan chanced a glance at his youngest brother and noted with a sense of glee how relaxed he seemed to be. The continual defenses of their home was a strain to all, yet more so to Legolas who had a stronger bond with the woods of their home. **_

_**"Yes, it is beautiful. It has been far too long since our last visit." Now it was Cellan's turn to be startled for he had not realized that Legolas was speaking until now. He had to wonder if this letting down of their guard was a good thing, for he couldn't allow himself to become too relaxed , Eru only knew what could possibly happen. Cellan returned his attention to his brother when a shout from the front of the guard turned his attention there. **_

_**They were entering Imladris borders and soon they would see the surprise that Lord Elrond spoke so fervently of in his most recent letters. Yes it would indeed be a surprise to remember... **_

A shift and painful groan from his friend brought Legolas' attention from the past and his tenuous smile fell from his fair face as reality set in. The lullaby he sang fell silent as well and he grabbed for a water skin, drenching spare bandages with the cool liquid and wiping gently at his friends fevered brow. It was too soon for more herbs and Legolas was at a loss as to what to do, so he resumed wiping his friends brow in a fervent attempt to drive down the raging fever. And so he continued his lullaby, loosing himself once more in memories, not knowing that someone else, not far off also prays that hope will not fade away...

As the sun began it's descent behind the tall peaks of the Misty Mountains, cool breezes blew through the tranquil valley, attempting to soothe the sting the sun had ravaged upon the poor souls who had had to endure it's blazing glory.

Swirls of blues and violets with the barest hint of pinks bathed the valley known as Imladris, as sunset wound its calming fingers through the elven haven. A lone figure stood gazing out at the waterfalls that surrounded their home, not seeing the beauty that envelopes him nor feeling the peacefulness that cloaks itself firmly around ones form as if to protect them from all the cares of the world.

No, this lone person, or more precisely this lone elf saw none of this, instead he saw blood, a dark crimson soaking through a tattered tunic, saw tears and the remnants of a fierce battle; he felt pain, a searing pain that was pure agony to feel, felt grief and sorrow but most disturbing of all was the feeling of hopelessness that grasped his very being leaving his heart racing and mind numb with an unknown feeling of loss.

As the vision faded and his senses returned, Elrond grasped the intricately carved railing of the balcony he now stood upon. He gasped for air, so intense were the emotions seeping through his mind and body. The figures he envisioned were hazy at best and despite his best efforts he could not distinguish one from the other. Running a shaky hand over his pale face and then through his disheveled hair, Elrond began to gather his wits about him once more, pushing himself from the balconies railing he retreated into the haven of his personal study.

Walking down the few steps that lead from the balcony into his spacious study Elrond's thoughts turned to the disturbing vision he had just experienced. Though most of his visions were left unclear he usually was able to decipher whom was involved, however, the murkiness of this latest vision left him concerned and wondering if his worry for his youngest son had somehow manifested itself into his minds eye, leaving him with nothing more than horrifying bouts of his accursed foresight.

Shaking his head, as if hoping to once again regain his renowned self-control, but failing miserably he held up a delicate, crystal decanter containing his favorite wine and proceeded to pour the liquid into a matching crystal goblet engraved with the image of the Last Homely House itself. Gently he lowered the decanter to its normal place on the mithril tray that sat on a small, oak table which stood near to the vast fireplace that took up more than a quarter of the studies wall.

With the same, gentle care he used with the decanter, Elrond wrapped his long, elegant fingers around the upper stem of the goblet, lifting it and bringing the wine closer to his waiting lips. However, as he brought the crystal closer the crimson color of the wine halted his movements, and he frowned, lowering the goblet with haste, nearly missing the mithril tray, and chipping the delicate crystal of the goblet.

He noticed nothing, however, except the dark, crimson of his favorite wine, the same color as the stain that soaked the tattered tunic. His vision came rushing to the fore in his mind once again and the feeling of hopelessness overwhelmed his every sense. Though the figures had been hazy, Elrond had the distinct impression that this was a vision concerning his youngest son and knowing his penchant for becoming involved in the most outrageous, dangerous and often times deadly situations he felt his convictions were justified.

With the heart and mind of a worried parent, Elrond wound his way to the over stuffed arm chair that sat directly in front of the large fireplace. There was no fire, and yet even if there had been one the elf lord would not have noticed, so focused was he on thoughts of his youngest child that nothing would have torn his attention away from the paths his mind had taken. He sent prayers to the whole of the Valar, hoping, promising anything that the vision he had seen did not involve his child and yet the feeling of hopelessness he had felt, the grief and guilt even gave little to calm his fears.

And so he sat, waiting for the inevitable cries that would alert him to wounded beings that needed his healing skills, and to the possibility that it would be his son that was in need of his healing touch.

He sat and waited, waited for his vision to be proved false but knowing that nothing he ever foresees is proved false.

He sat and waited for every parents worst fears...he sat and waited for his son to return...

Annnnnnnd, that concludes Chapter 3! I'm a bit nervous about this chapter and I hope that it's just as good as the previous two. I think that's my worst fear, that my writing, instead of getting better gets worse. Reviews are lovely, yet not necessary for me to continue. I write because itgives me an outlet for my emotions.

And for those who are curious about why it took me so long to get this chapter up here it is: I ended up getting really sick towards the end of Jan.I was literally bed-ridden for a week, and then the most distressingthing happened. I write in a notebook, that way I can write while I'm at work, urm, at lunch. However, I ended up loosing themiddle of chapter 3. Don't askhow, because for the life of me I don't know. It just vanished.I looked and looked and without success, and so I had to re-write the portion that went missing. I bet you anything, that now that I have this posted I'll find the missing portion. It never fails, I loose something and then, bam! I find it when I no longer need it...Well, I've babbled long enough, and now I must go and read all the stories that I'm behind on because I haven't been online in like forever...Until the next chapter...GrammarPRNcess


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